My addled brain wasn’t doing me any favours, for sure. I focussed on that, focussed on just getting through the night. Come the morning, I hoped I could finally start to get some answers.
It took a few minutes to get Thatch settled in his room. I resolutely didn’t look around his personal space and tried my hardest not to inhale too deeply. The last thing I needed was the scent of Thatch in my system all night. After having searched the three doors in his large bedroom, I’d discovered one that led to another bedroom suite. It made sense Bert had directed me here. It meant I could reach Thatch quickly should he need me.
Everything was so complicated.
Before I could even think about a shower or sleep, I pulled out my phone. There was no choice but to make this call. I had to know.
The phone rang out five times before a tough feminine voice answered, “Hi, Valerie. Good to hear from you.” Disdain filtered down the line. There was a muffled voice, and I figured she was stepping out of the house. Shifter hearing made life difficult when wanting to have a private conversation. Footsteps sounded on the floorboards. A soft closing of an external door. The glass was still loose after all these years and still made that annoying sound as it closed.
Her breathing appeared on the line before her hushed, hurried words. “Why are you calling?” Bitterness laced the question, but I’d long ago given up the will to care. My ma had made her decision the last time my dad had stabbed my thigh with his penknife and she hadn’t said a word when he’d poured liquid silver into the wound.
I still had no idea why it hadn’t poisoned me. Not because of the silver. Hell, I wasn’t a werewolf, but bloody hell… it was liquid silver in a hole in my leg. Perhaps if a vein had been nicked, it would have done the job.
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Lucinda. Where is she?”
My hackles rose when she was quiet a beat too long.
“I swear to God, you need to tell me where she is now.”
“Why?”
“Don’t try me, Ma.” I took a deep breath to try and prevent my weariness from dripping into my words. She smelled weakness, just like him.
“They left six months ago. Good riddance. That bastard child of—”
“Do not talk about my niece that way. Where did Hazel go? Where did she take her?”
She huffed out a breath. I knew the last thing she wanted to do was talk to me, and it amused me that the three times I’d called in the past twelve years, she’d actually picked up. Even more entertaining was that she kept it from him. I had no doubt that was about self-preservation. “They went down south. Somewhere near the southern bushlands.”
“Why there and why leave?”
“How the hell would I know where that hussy of a daugh—”
“Why?” I pushed.
“There was talk of marriage.”
My brows dipped in confusion. I hadn’t spoken to my sister in about nine months. She hated the pack, our dad, but she’d been safe. Neither of us were quite sure why our father had never laid a finger on her. We were both just grateful. “Hazel? Who to?”
“Both.” Her words were blunt, emotionless.
Red misted my eyes. Blood pumped at a rate so damn fast I was sure I’d explode. “What. The Fuck?” My niece was eight.
“To the Crimson Pack out west. They were both due to go, with Lucinda marrying as soon as she came of age, and Hazel to the alpha’s son.” Defiance laced her words. Could she seriously not see how every word she said was wrong and oh so disgustingly sickening?
“What is wrong with you? That’s your daughter, your granddaughter.”
She sniffed as though our whole conversation was an effort to her. “Was.”
I froze. What did she mean by that? Did she know about Hazel? Had she, they had something to do with Hazel’s death, and more to the point, where the hell was my niece? “What?”
“What?” she repeated.
“What do you mean by was?”
“The pair of them took off in the night. Billy’s daughter told us she’d heard Hazel on the phone about her heading to the southern bushlands. That’s all I know.”
“Did he look for them?” Ma knew perfectly well who I was referring to, and no way would our father have let her run without consequences, especially if he was selling them off, or whatever the hell he’d been attempting.
“They looked.” Disgust slithered through her words, making my skin crawl. This woman was born of hell. There was no other explanation for it. “After a month they gave up. Lennon needed his men back here. As far as I’m concerned, they’re both dead.” The line cut off.
Nausea swirled in my gut. Anger at them, at me, at my sister, and this whole mess of a situation. There had to be a chance Lucinda was okay. The alternative was incomprehensible.
I struggled to breathe, to keep myself from breaking. I shook my head and stumbled to the en suite bathroom. After getting the shower running, I stripped off and stepped inside, not checking on the temperature. Hot or cold, it didn’t matter. I was numb.
Water beat down on me, mingling with my tears. The last time I’d cried was when I was eight. The punishment for that was still engraved in my forearm. Hazel deserved my tears, though. They came steady and silent, filled with sorrow and regret. Head against the tiled wall, I released a heavy breath, fighting to compose myself and trying to regain control. In just a few hours, I’d begin to make sense of everything that had happened tonight and then backtrack from there. It was the only way I’d be able to find Lucinda and determine who had killed my sister and why.
Completely spent, I dried off and headed to Thatch’s room, towel wrapped around
